Prisoners
by IWanderingSoul
Summary: They are captured, and yet they refuse to be broken. Prisoners of a cruel and cold war, there is nothing they can give to each other but hope. Written for a challenge by realize on HPFF BillHermione


**Disclaimer: **All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and associates.

AN: Written for a challenge by realize on HPFF

**Prisoners  
**

_A Bill Weasley/Hermione Granger story: for light in the dark of the night_

„Knight to e5."

„Queen to e5."

„Pawn to d4."

„King to b3." His eyes are closed as he imagines the final move, the chessboard visble in front of his eyes. She laughs lightly, a cherry moment between the dark ones. "You beat me again."

"I couldn't very well lose against my younger brother. So-"

"You practised. I did the same."

"Always only in for the win!" he teases.

* * *

"Why Ancient Runes of all things?"

"It was there, interesting, something different. Arithmancy was the subject I wanted most. Logical, the structure of the world."

"It's captivating, isn't it? The way it makes you understand things, put them into perspective."

"It is. Anyway, I needed something different. A contrast. Divination was out of the question-"

"You could have had your death predicted so nicely."

"I'm close enough to that as it is." A solemn moment. Awkward to the eyes of some, but for them, simply painful.

"I don't want to die", she confides. There are a thousand things he could say. You won't. They'll get us out of here in time. Trust them. Trust them, Harry, Ron, the others. They'll manage.

But he can not deceive her, and empty lies just make it all the more painful. "It's not over yet", is what he says. If that's the best hope you have, you hold onto it.

* * *

There is a small window, too tiny to let any real light through, but she sees the difference between sun and moon, day and night. And because it is late, and he must be tired, she tells a story this time. "It was around Christmas, fifth year, I think. It must have been. We were skiing. It wasn't really my thing, but I loved the scenery. Imagine it", she suggests. "The sky was such a bright blue, like I've never seen before or after. And the mountains were the same white. Maybe not even a colour. Everything was so bright. I was wearing snow glasses, of course, but still, sometimes, I could hardly see.

It was like seeing the edge of the world. Everything was more, and always just a bit too much. Enough to be special, different. It felt like magic, the way I imagined magic was like."

There is silence from behidn the thin- and yet so thick- bars which separate them and she knows he understands.

* * *

"There must be a way out."

"Is this logic?" he asks. "There's no such thing as nothing, so there must be a way."

"Call it what you like. For me, it's believing."

"Believing? Is there still anything you can believe in?"

"Magic", she replies. "Only ever magic. I was eleven when they came and told me, and then I saw it." He doesn't ask what she means, he knows. Hogwarts.

"It is a different kind of magic", he adds. "Different than when Dad made tea pots run or when Mum made the dishes wash themselves. More elemental."

"And that is the reason why we'll find a way to escape, because there are things more powerful than they ", she spits it out "will ever understand."

Her voice is like a shining ray of hope he can't see. The pain is to visible and reality too close.

* * *

It is dark and she only see the shadows as they throw open the door, toss him into the cell. She crawls towards the bars she can't cross and reaches her hand through it. Her arm is slim, but still, it hardly fits in between. She will have bruises, but there are things which have not been important for a long time. Her fingers touch him gently, hesitatingly, running over his cheeks and his face, tracing patterns and wiping at least some of the blood away. She does not know if he will make it, or if he will abandon her- here- but this is the only support she can give now. "Don't leave me." "You can do this. Stay strong." "I believe in you."

Her whispers grow quiet as the night passes until the only thing she whisper is his name, haunting through the room and hanging in the air. Bill. Bill. Bill.

He manages, for some reason and survives the torture with all its consequences. Strong enough. She cries when she knows he will make, when she is confident that survival is possible. This time, he is the one who comforts her with gentle words and soft touches.

"I'm afraid", she confides. "Afraid and weak."

"You're not weak. You made it this far, didn't you?"

"I am, believe it. Once, a long time ago when we thought we might lose, I vowed never to be this kind of person, captured, weak."

"We always become the person we promised not to be."

"Such wise words! Who are you? Who have you turned into?"

"I've turned into someone delusional. Everything is against us, and I can't give up. Not now."

"Some would call that bravery."

Silence follows. "There is something I need to tell you."

"Yes?"

"When I was up there, that night, I heard them talking." Seconds and seconds pass, turn into minutes. It doesn't matter. They have all the time of the world. Finally, he continues. "Ron is dead." She gives a shaken, loud sob, crumbling forward. He wants to hold her, help her, but he knows he has to finish this first. "They murdered him. Sent Parkinson to do it, but she didn't succeed. He was very nearly gone and escaped, but they had a back-up guard."

"Who?"

"Is it important?"

"Don't play stupid with me!"

"Snape." She sighs softly, look away, resigned. She respected him, maybe even believed in his innocence. He was the teacher from whom she learned most. "I'm sorry", he says.

She shakes her head.

* * *

They take her this time and he waits in the antagonizing silence. They will be torturing here, waiting for the information she will refuse to give. She might call herself weak, but he knows she is strong. Then, she comes back quite suddenly, led in by the two bulky guards. He can barely see her, but when the light glimmers as they open the door, he notices that there is no blood visible on her body, that she is barely injured. She cringes from the pain, but is strong enough to assure him: "I'll be fine." Then she smiles up at him. "You made me strong." He isn't supposed to hear her whisper. "I love you." He does.

Though everything seems lost, he is sure now that they will get out, because there is something to live for , because he won't let her remain here and because her voice is now like the ray of light he couldn't see before. Maybe they will have to sit their capture out until Harry succeeds, or maybe they will manage to escape, but when he hears her talk, for the very first time he feels something he thought he had lost. Hope.

**Challenge info: The challenge was to write a pairing with two unlikely people. I was given Bill and Hermione.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


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